


Can I Pet Your Dog?

by AndromedaVonQuaia12



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Bruises, Comedy, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, rated teen for 1 (one) use of the f-bomb, twol grian... 2!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25150336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaVonQuaia12/pseuds/AndromedaVonQuaia12
Summary: Grian stumbles into a strange town just before nightfall to find the dark streets abandoned, empty. Why? Well, he's about to find out, and stumble into something deeper than could ever imagine.
Relationships: Grian/Rendog
Comments: 29
Kudos: 123





	1. Wolf Bite

_This is a weird town_ , Grian caught himself thinking as he approached the rock wall they claimed as a border. It separated the settlements from the forest surrounding them, though he wasn’t quite sure why it needed to be there with no gate attached. The dirt paths were patted down by hooves and the feet of weary travelers looking for a place to stay the night. He, too, walked this path with a similar purpose, eyeing the strange stables at the front of the town. They were fully enclosed, with wooden doors, small iron-bar windows, and thick metal latches on each separate stall. It gave him a feeling of unease he couldn't quite describe, and he didn’t even have a horse. _What did they need to lock up their horses for?_ But then he spotted the three giant marks carved into the second door on the right. He tore his gaze away and shuffled further into town before he could question it further.

The late afternoon was quickly approaching evening, an orange hue settling on the timber frames of the houses surrounding him. There were nary a passerby outside, the empty street echoing back the closing of shutters, each townie hurrying to lock up and get inside as if the beginning sunset made them anxious. He pulled at the edge of his cloak as a chill breeze cascaded toward him, swinging the neglected lanterns on the streetside. No one made a move to light them despite the encroaching night, and their iron frames showed no sign of usage in a long time. Curiosity nagged at him like his mother used to when he slept in late, but he shook it off in favor of his goal in arriving here: He needed to find an inn.

He perused the abandoned street like a vagrant, scanning each building frame for some sort of shop sign. He reached a roundabout with a fountain in the center before finding what looked to be a tavern on his left, built with hefty stone and large double doors, quite unlike every other building he’s passed. The lanterns out front weren’t lit here, either, and the hanging sign creaked on its hinges in the evening breeze, the bright pink font read as _Stressmonster’s Inn and Brewery_ , as well as a drawing of a beer mug with a large heart on it. _Well that solves that problem_ , he thought, though the sign seemed rather cheery for a town that was crawling with fear as the night grew nearer. 

His brain began to feel like a beehive with the amount of questions buzzing around in there, _just what was up with this town?_ But he ignored them in favor of opening the double doors before him. The lingering smell of alcohol smacked him in the face as he was met with four very distinct gazes; Stern blue eyes under a glinting set of steel armor, a mismatched stare of pine green and a strange mechanical eyepatch, a heavily scarred face with soft hazel eyes, and a thrilled brown stare of the short lady behind the bar. 

She practically hooted upon his arrival, her thick accent pressurizing her words like a tea kettle in her excitement. “Oooh, we got ourselves another traveler tonight! Welcome, luv! Come, ‘ave a seat.” She shuffled around the bar, her bobbed brown hair bouncing around as she grabbed one of the many wooden seats scattered about the room, pulling it between armor and eyepatch. They seemed to be the same height as him, save for scar guy towering above him and the barkeep, who Grian came to assume was Stressmonster (what with the blindingly pink attire donning the logo that matched the one outside), standing about level to his ear. He tried his best to look thankful, politely removing his cloak that was covering his red sweater as he sat in the offered seat between the strange characters. The buttons on the back dug into his shoulders against the back of the chair, and he pushed against them further despite the discomfort. He’d rather no one notice than ask questions. She continued to prattle on, making her way back around the bar. “You’ve got good timing, y’know. Curfew’s about to start. You really don’t wanna be out there on a night like this.”

Eyepatch to his right stroked his beard and let out a bit of a wheezy chuckle. He had an accent, too, but the lilt was quicker and more rhythmic. “C’mon, Stress! You gonna scare him away already with your spooky night of doom stories?” 

Armor on the other side of him perked up. His accent was a lot flatter, his voice rather nasally. “Cut the guy some slack. We don’t even know his name yet.” He extended his gloved hand toward Grian. “I’m Wels. That’s Stress, she owns the bar. Beside you is Iskall, don’t take him too seriously, and over there is Scar, probably one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet.”

Grian tried not to think about how ridiculous it was that the guy with a ton of scars was named Scar. “I’m Grian. Nice to meet you.” He took Wels's hand and found it was cold, but he chalked it up to the metal gauntlet he was wearing. Wels shook back and smiled before leaning back in his seat, his eyes gleaming about as much as the helmet on his head.

“So, Grian, what brings you to my bar? Other than the night, of course.” Stress prompted as she wiped down the day’s used glasses.

Grian shrugged, pretending to know why nighttime was a valid reason to enter the tavern in the first place. “Just passing through.”

“Is that so?” She lifted an eyebrow, gaze not moving from the mug in her hands. “What’cha travellin’ for?”

“I just like to travel. See the sights, meet new people.” He lied. In all honesty, he was travelling because he just didn’t know where to be, but he couldn’t say that to a barkeep he just met, especially sober, and he really didn’t feel like drinking tonight. 

She looked up at him, a kind smile on her face but a world-weary look in her eyes, like she knew what he was thinking already. The feeling of unease came crawling up his throat again. He bit his tongue and forced a smile.

“Well, since you’re ‘ere, you’ll be staying the night, then. It’s the ‘spooky night of doom,’ as Iskall put it. Ain’t no one goin’ out tonight. Hope you ‘ave e’rything you need.”

Scar finally piped in, his big purple hat flopping a bit as he sat forward toward the table. His voice had a kind and silly air to it, like if cookie dough were a sound. “I thought every night here was the spooky night of doom.”

“Well then, tonight is an omega spooky night of doom.” Wels replied.

“No, no, no! That’s wrong!” Iskall butted in, smacking a fingerless-gloved hand onto the table. “Every night here is a spooky night. Tonight is a full moon, so it’s a spooky night of doom. _Omega_ spooky night of doom is reserved only for blue moons, blood moons, and eclectics.”

“You mean eclipses?” Scar giggled at his friend’s error.

“Yes. Those. You know what I meant.” Iskall retorted.

“Alright, what do we call Tuesdays then?” Wels asked.

Iskall just shrugged at him with a bit of a laugh. “That one’s up to you.”

Grian sat and listened as they bantered, the playful antics bouncing between them like frogs on the loose. They had such a sense of familiarity, like they’ve known each other for years. It made Grian feel miniscule and out of place, and he could feel his stomach start to flip over. He needed out. Now. He scooched out his chair and hopped over to the bar towards Stress, trying to ignore the temporary lull in the conversation behind him as he got up. “How much for the room?”

She gave him that kind, consoling gaze again, and it reminded him of his mother, which just made him feel worse. “Oh, you don’t need to pay tonight, luv. It’s on the house.”

He tried his best to keep a neutral expression. Quite frankly, it was too good to be true, and with his increasing unease and every little oddity he found in this darned town he felt less and less safe. But a free night in a warm bed is more than he could ever hope for, and Stress's eyes were genuine like he hadn't seen in a long time. So, with a bit of a sigh, he caved. "Alright. Where am I staying?"

She gave him a smile like sunshine and gestured to a doorway at the back of the room with an exaggerated bow. “Right this way, good sir.”

He grabbed his cloak off of his abandoned seat before following her down the stone brick hallway. It branched off into multiple rooms, which he could only assume were for guests of the inn part of _Stressmonster’s Inn and Brewery_. He had yet to see the brewery side, but he didn’t question it much further, plenty of taverns make their own alcohol in this day and age. Each door they passed had a crystal with a small arrangement of foliage strung to the front, all of varying colors and shapes. She stopped him at a room with a scarlet, smokey crystal that nearly matched his sweater, bundled up in a set of ferns. 

“This is the one for you! Here’s your key.” She handed him a somewhat spade-shaped key with an odd, reddish sheen. “I hope you ‘ave a good stay here, I do my best to provide all my guests with the upmost quality. If you have any issues, do let me know!”

“Sure.” He nodded, reaching for the doorknob to his temporary lodging. Stress began to make her way back to the bar and he remembered his manners before she could disappear fully. “Hey, Stress?”

She turned around almost a little too quickly. “Yes? Oh dear, did I forget something?”

“Uh, no. I just…” He shuffled his feet, trying to return her gaze and failing. “Thanks.”

Stress’s smile spread warmly, knowingly. “You’re always welcome here, luv.”

There was a hidden meaning there, Grian was sure of it, but he couldn’t begin to comprehend exactly what she meant. All he knew as he turned that doorknob is that he couldn't help but feel… Oddly thankful. There wasn’t a hit of malice in her voice or her eyes - something Grian had come quite accustomed to spotting. He nearly began to berate himself for letting his guard down too far, for getting _soft_ , but he stopped himself with the sight of the room before him.

The dimming sunlight bathed the room in an evening glow through the shuttered window on the back wall, sending long shadows through the room toward his feet. The curtains were the same red as the crystal on the door, hand-embroidered with floral patterns that mirrored the sheets on the double bed in the left corner. The spruce wood bed frame matched the dresser and wardrobe on the right. A small mirror was placed on the dresser, along with a deck of cards, some little potted plants he couldn’t identify, a set of candles, and more scarlet crystals. There was a small plush toy on the bed, a brown mammalian thing that looked like a cross between a cat and a dog, and it looked to be hand-crocheted. Grian went to pick it up immediately. It was _adorable_ , and incredibly soft.

He slipped the key Stress gave him into his pocket then went to examine the crystals on the dresser. He placed the stuffed toy in front of the mirror as he picked one up, holding it up to the light. They were somewhat transparent, though not enough to see through. It left a strange shadow on the floor through the sunlight, swirly and in movement, like the shapes made when pouring milk into water. A trail of colored light followed behind it, redder than the rest, like a mosaic window in a church cathedral. He put it down, suddenly. An involuntary sigh left his nose and he turned to close the door, spotting the desk and chair hidden behind it. He draped his cloak over the chair and flopped onto the bed. It was _really_ comfortable, even with the buttons on the back of his sweater, and he felt himself start to drift. What little of him that was conscious pleaded for him to at least take his shoes off, but it was too late, he was out.

Until he woke up, that is. The sun had long since set, plunging the room into a blue darkness. The moonlight left a similar pattern as the sun did when he passed out, and he found his tired eyes following its path, from the windowsill to the plush on the dresser. The light reflected against the mirror, surrounding the strange creature in an ethereal spotlight. It looked as if it were about to sing some dramatic ballad of its loneliness and misery, or some curse it had been subjected to. Grian groaned and turned turned toward the wall. He was never really one for theater.

Then he heard a howl. He immediately flipped back over, propping up on his elbow, his offended glare pointed directly at the stuffed toy. It hadn’t moved. With a sigh, he dropped back down on the bed. He was going crazy, that’s all. In time, he began to drift again, until...

Another howl. He slapped a pillow over his face and let out an agonized groan. Who would’ve thought there were a pack of wolves living right outside town? Maybe _this_ was why the room was free. By the time he heard the third one he knew he wasn’t going to be sleeping. He swung his legs over the bed, grumpy glower combing back over the animal plush. He decided then that it was definitely a dog, and it was definitely out to get him. _Is this what it felt like to be a postman?_

He stood up, stretching out his arms with a yawn. He grabbed the mirror, shoving his face into the moonlight. Judging by the bags under his eyes he’d estimate he got maybe… Five hours of sleep. _That’s better than nothing_ , he guessed, re-fluffing his flattened hair and plopping it back down with a _thunk_. He made his way toward the back wall, dropping to his elbows on the windowsill. The view outside was that of a side street, just off the main one, planting the tavern right on the corner. If he shoved his face against the window and looked to the left he could almost see the fountain in the center of town, but otherwise, there wasn’t much to look at.

Until a flash of darkness flew across his vision. He blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes, and squinted out into the moonlight. Surely, he was losing it. Then he heard giant splash, and another haunting howl. If Grian didn’t know better, he’d say a one of those wolves jumped into it, but no matter how much he squished his face to the glass he couldn’t see much more than a couple stone bricks and a fresh puddle reflecting the gleam of the moon. 

_That’s it. I’m going out there_ , he decided. So what if there was a curfew? He didn’t live here. Maybe he could shoo whatever creature was making a ruckus back to the woods. Grian trudged over to the door, feet shuffling against the stone floor, and he reached for his cloak, tugging it over his shoulders with a little more force than necessary. The door was opened with much more grace. Despite his grumpiness, he knew better than to slam doors when people are sleeping. He’d done enough sneaking about in his lifetime to know how to get around quietly, especially when peeved. Snores of the neighboring guests echoed through the candlelit hallway, but before he could step through he found himself eye level to that strange decoration on the door. He looked to the dresser behind him, scattered with those same gems that eerily matched his sweater. On a whim, he shoved one in his pocket and stepped out the door.

As he paced down the hallway he noted that the loudest set of snores were coming from behind a door donned with a chartreuse, cubic crystal and a bundle of pine needles. He wondered if that room, too, kept theme with their exterior decoration. The candlelit braziers lining the walls led him back to the main room with the bar, which was unlit save for the glow of the moon through the shutters, filtering to strips onto the tabletops and wooden floorboards. The only sounds were the distant snores behind him, each little _creak_ when his foot hit the floor, and the… _Something_ outside. It howled and scuffled about the streets, and Grian was once again fighting the notion that it was a wolf. Most wolves wouldn’t be caught dead this close to a town, much less _alive_ , and _in it_ , causing a scene in the dead of the night.

His reverie brought him face to face with the double doors, each bearing a triangular window just big enough to see out of. He gradually moved closer, peering through, and spotting nothing. The fountain was bare, save for the absolutely massive puddles surrounding it, the _monstrous_ footprints, and the wafting scent of wet fur. Grian scrunched up his nose. Gross.

 _SHHHHHHRRRRK!_ Grian fell backward onto the floor, right onto his tailbone, the deafening sound of carving into wood filling his bones as if it were carving into _him_. Immediately following was an mammalian whimper, like a squeaky toy, (likely the sound of Grian’s startled scream escaping his throat), and the shuffling of claws against dirt quickly distancing itself from his general vicinity. 

After taking a few deep breaths to calm his thrumming heartbeat, Grian patted around till he found a nearby chair and lifted himself off the ground. Whatever that was was _definitely_ not a wolf, at least not a normal one, and he found himself approaching the window with much more hesitation than before. The odor that was once forceful and present had practically disappeared, which in turn made Grian realize that the creature was previously _right outside the door_. 

He counted each passing moment with bated breath, now, scanning the plaza with a more careful eye. The window on the door proved useless, so he tiptoed over to the shuttered window by the bar, peering through the cracks. Nothing. Just the damp monster footprints that made a haphazard spiral art around the fountain. He let himself sigh, short and heavy. If the creature was truly gone, Grian figured the least he could do was assess the damage done to the doors. He pulled it open with a bit of a grimace, and low and behold, the marks that sunk their way into the timber matched the very ones he saw on the horse stables earlier that day. A wave of cold sunk its way into his bones, and his grip on the handle went slick as he started to sweat. That solved one question, at least.

“Yeesh,” he whispered, voice squeakier than he remembered it. Despite his emotionally chilled limbs, he felt curiosity tug at him like a lead around his waist. He felt his foot lift up before his mind registered it, mincing toward the fountain, dragging him forward like his bones had a mission he wasn’t aware of. Guess he wasn’t going back to bed yet. 

_That’s it, I’m going to die._ He thought, bitterly. Grian made no move to stop his wandering legs, though, so perhaps he had more of a deathwish than he’d like to admit. He found himself several paces closer to the fountain, and upon placing his foot in the center of one of the certainly-not-human footprints, he discovered they were approximately… Three times the size of his feet? _Why am I out here again?_ The creature must’ve had four large claws, which he could only discern by the way they left little divots in the dirt. The rest of the prints were just a mass of wet ground. He kept going, tracing the erratic path, all the way to the edge of the fountain. 

_SMACK!_ The door of the tavern shut behind him, making him jump out of his skin. Almost literally, he noted, what with the familiar itch down the length of his spine. He turned and gawked at the door. He hadn’t realized he hadn’t closed it. But that decision would be his downfall as he snapped his gaze toward a scuffling sound in the distance. His heart hammered in his throat as he gaped down the road. There _it_ was, the creature, but a speck in the lengthy street, a smelly mass of soaked fur. And it was sprinting straight for him. 

Panicking, Grian patted himself down, grasping the crystal from his left pocket and bringing it up to his heart, enclosed in his palm. _Please be magic, please be magic, please be magic_ , he chanted internally. The creature was getting closer, down on all fours, features obscured save for it’s large glowing eyes, the same bright white of the moon. The crystal didn’t react, didn’t glow, didn’t anything. The monster was close enough Grian swore he could see it’s teeth. It showed no signs of stopping.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Grian turned tail and sprinted as hard as he could. Past the fountain, past the tavern, down the street on the opposite side. He ran like his life depended on it, and he feared it might, who knows what would happen if that _thing_ caught up to him.

But he wasn’t fast enough. A massive jaw caught him in the calf. Screaming, more from fear than pain, he tripped onto his face as the creature dragged him backwards with its mouth. A massive, clawed hand grabbed him by the other leg and lifted him upward. He clenched his eyes shut, feeling the blood in his body begin to rush to his head as he clutched the crystal to his chest. Oddly, his leg didn’t hurt, but he didn’t have time to think about it as he felt a few puffs of disgustingly warm air in his face. The monster’s breath _reeked_ , a distinctly meaty scent mixed with the faint hint of blood, and he hoped to some nondescript deity that it wasn’t his. It seemed to sniff at him, what with the wet, breathing mass making contact with his face. The monster snarled, low and gravelly, like a warning. It held him there for a second before tapping his forehead. Reluctantly, Grian opened his eyes.

He did _not_ regret it. He was met with the face of a gigantic, fluffy dog. Its fur was tan and brown, with a dark nose, and despite the growling its lip wasn’t even curled, which Grian could clearly see considering he was looking at it upside down. It had a large marking on its snout like a muzzle, lighter than the rest of its face, leading toward its eyes. But the weirdest part was the fact that Grian couldn’t even see its eyes: The monster dog was wearing sunglasses. 

Grian laughed. He couldn't help it. He cackled like a maniac, snorting in the face of this beast that could bite off his face at any moment. It was holding him upside down, by the calf, and he was absolutely _howling_ at it, like he just pulled the best prank in the world, like he was attending a stand up comedian and the guy was just an absolute _hoot_. He always had a knack for laughing in the face of danger, but never quite this literally. In retrospect, he probably should’ve been afraid, but the sight of this massive creature that could definitely kill him wearing _sunglasses_ just absolutely tickled him to bits.

Before he had even fully calmed down, the creature snorted, slowly lowering him back to the ground. It stood there, towering over him, as Grian sat up and attempted to retain his composure. That plan immediately backfired when he looked back up at it. The creature, which he now registered was a werewolf, what with the canine face and human-shaped (though still furry) torso, was not only wearing sunglasses, it was also wearing a torn pair of pants and _suspenders_. Grian _wheezed_ , lurching forward, slamming his fist onto the ground from the sheer hilarity of it all. He could barely breathe, eye level with its massive hind paws, strength leaving him as he hollered. Maybe that was the werewolf’s plan, to wear people down with their own laughter, but he didn’t care. It was, by far, the funniest thing Grian had seen in his life.

Only when he started to calm down again did he hear the whimper coming from the creature above him. He looked up, noting the curled tail and the ears pointing downward, its snout a good six feet above him, even while crouching. If he knew dog body language correctly, that’d mean it was upset about something. It struck him then that this massive creature was _sad_ because Grian was _laughing at it_. Oops. He jumped up, meaninglessly brushing the dirt off his pants.

“Hey, buddy, it’s okay,” Grian offered, holding his hands up in half-hearted motion imitating surrender. The werewolf bent down to his level and he was met with those silly sunglasses again. Grian bit back a snort. “First thing’s first, if you wanna look intimidating you gotta get rid of these things,” he suggested, reaching for the offending accessory. The werewolf just recoiled with a bit of a snarl. “Alright, a fashion statement, I can respect that. But you can’t be getting mad at me when you look like-” he gestured up and down the length of the creature in front of him, “- _this!_ ”

The werewolf just whimpered before turning in a circle and sitting down, pulling its digitigrade legs up its chest and resting its chin on its knees. He was certain if it weren’t for the tinted shades hiding its eyes, he’d be seeing the dopiest puppy-eye expression ever. Grian found himself struck with an immediate fondness for the thing, like a canine cupid came out of the sky to snipe him. This thing was just… A really, _really_ big dog. Which gave him an idea.

He found himself shuffling awkwardly again, just like when he went to thank Stress for the free room. Glancing back and forth at nothing in particular, he felt heat start to rise to his face, practically burning in the cool night air. _Does this guy have a human form?_ He really, really hoped not, or else this would be super awkward in the morning. “Do you… Do you like being pet?”

In an instant, the wolf’s fluffy ears perked up, giant tail wagging so hard against the ground it nearly echoed throughout the empty streets. The creature crawled closer, shoving its snout into his face again. “Okay, okay!” Grian cried, pushing it away. It was cute, sure, but its breath still stank, and Grian liked being able to breathe. He reached back on its face to the soft fur below the ears and ran his fingers through it. The werewolf practically melted in his arms, leaning its head sideways into his touch, and a pleased-sounding sigh leaving its nostrils. Grian nearly whimpered himself, because _oh my goodness that’s adorable_. He’d never had a dog before, but he was rapidly understanding why people loved them so much. Although, this was a little bit more than your average pup. The thing was nearly eight feet tall, with a human-shaped torso and arms. It was even wearing human clothing for crying out loud. _Oh god, they definitely have a human form, I’m an idiot_ , he realized, freezing up. But as soon as he stopped petting, the wolf just gave him that sad look again, and Grian just.. Caved. He couldn't help it, it was _so cute! ___

__

__

“You got a name, buddy?” He asked, though he wasn’t expecting much of an answer. He didn’t know if werewolves could speak, and this one hadn’t done so yet.

In response, it - or _they_ , he supposed - gave him a bit of a short howl. They were certainly trying to say _something_.

“Aroo?” Grian parroted. They nudged their snout forward as if egging him on. “Ah?” He prompted. No response. “Oo?” A short growl. “Rr?” The wolves ears perked up. “Rrrr? Ar? The letter R?”

They licked his face and Grian’s blush came back with a fervor. “Ah, okay, uhm. R. A-anything else?” He stammered, praying to whatever gods there may or may not be that he will never meet this person as a human.

The werewolf made a series of miscellaneous dog sounds, ears tilting downward with each one they made. Grian came to assume that meant they couldn’t pronounce whatever came next. 

“That’s okay buddy, we can stick with ‘R’ for now,” he assured them, giving the top of their head a couple pats.

The werewolf, now known as R, sniffed at the air, looking up toward the sky. Grian followed their general gaze and figured that they were looking at the moon. It was getting rather low in the sky, now, meaning the sun would be rising soon enough. He heard a small whimper before his face met dog tongue _again_ , slobber rapidly cooling in the night air and making his blushing face feel rather lopsided. Seriously, giant dog or not, you _can’t_ just kiss someone you just met, but it was a little late for Grian to communicate that as the ridiculously dressed creature let out one final howl before scampering off down the side street, and Grian was left standing there, watching them go, blushing like an idiot. _Is this what it’s like to be a furry?_ His brain supplied, and he nearly smacked himself right then and there.

He grabbed the end of his cloak to wipe the slobber off his face before making his way back to the tavern. He looked down at his leg, the one that got bit, and there wasn’t a single mark, not even on his pants. He sighed heavily, tired of all the mystery and confusion. It was a lot for a single night, even for him. _I’m going back to bed_ , he thought with a groan, as he swung open the newly carved tavern door, shoes creaking against the wooden floor. _This town may be weird, but least it was interesting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh i started a fantasy creature au  
> i assume you can tell who's the werewolf by the tag and the ship and the attire but i just think. a big ol meanie lookin pupper in sunglasses and suspenders is the sillest thing and im. having a blast writing this not gonna lie  
> im hoping to continue this, there's a lot of bits that arent answered in this chapter and i have a plan for how the final climax or whatever will play out and it will be. so good. i just have to write it and that's the problem. but!!! enjoy this for now!  
> name is in reference to an animatic a lovely friend of mine made. i'll ask if i can link it


	2. Dog Days Are Over

Grian awoke to the _smack_ of his face against the hardwood floor. Immediately he flailed around in surprise, legs still tangled in the blanket, half suspended on the bed. He flipped from his stomach to his back, the blanket following the momentum and whipping onto the dresser. The weight of the fabric pulled down multiple crystals, plunking like scattered marbles and surrounding his floor-laying body. He grabbed his face with a groan. This was gonna be a rough one.

He sat himself up and scrubbed at his eyes, yanking the rest of the red comforter off the dresser, which promptly tipped over the desk mirror and scattered even more gems. He perhaps should've thought about that one, but Grian wasn't exactly an early bird. The morning sun was on the other side of the tavern but its light still shone into the room, the pale blue kind that made him question how anyone could ever get up at this ungodly hour, even though it was probably, like, 10 am at the earliest. 

Telltale dryness lingered in his mouth, courtesy of a night poorly slept, his body trembling from fatigue as he lifted himself off the ground. As usual, being a light sleeper was both a blessing and a curse. It kept him ready to protect himself, but many nights he was left lacking, especially when travelling. He tilted the mirror back up, freeing the canine plush from under its weight and sighed at the sight of his visage. His bags weren’t that bad but he was looking a little more world-weary than usual. Perhaps it was the light thrum of magic tugging at his crown like a headband, the weight on his shoulders, the coil at the base of his spine. Or maybe it was the wacky dream he had, what with the giant dog-man in sunglasses and suspenders.

Amusement rushed to him at the thought of it, and he shifted his weight to his right only to yelp in surprise as his leg collided with an open drawer. It was surprisingly tender, which was strange, since he didn’t remember injuring himself. He leaned down and pulled up his grey pant leg, hiss escaping his teeth as he stared at the bruises donning his calf. There were two on either side, tender to the touch, with large hard spots in the center of dark purple skin. They then tapered off into yellow in odd narrow shapes that joined at the back, like something had grabbed him. A vision of a large, toothy jaw shoved its way into his mind, and his own jaw dropped in realization. 

Funky fashion wolf was not a dream. They were very real, and they left a _mark_. He pulled his pant leg back down in a huff before grabbing a handful of stray crystals from the floor. A little bruise wouldn’t kill him, sure, but injuries weren’t exactly great, either. His body was already under a lot of stress, what with the three-or-so different conditions affecting him. As if on cue, his stomach roared like a beast provoked. His best interest would be to get some food, then. He plopped back down onto the floor and grabbed his shoes with a sigh.

After donning his footwear and finishing his game of 52 crystal pickup, he swung open the door to his lodging. What he was met with was another door on the opposite side of the hallway, open to reveal a dark room. It had no windows, but in the center of the room there was an eerie blue light emitting from a suit of armor he found oddly familiar. Then it turned to look at him. A squeak escaped his throat, icy fear shooting through his bones. If he wasn't awake before, he was definitely awake now.

"Oh, good morning Grian!" It waved at him, its nasally voice echoing from a faceless metal husk. 

Grian blinked in response. "Wels?"

"You got it. Guess I made a good impression yesterday." Grian could tell he was smiling, what with the kind tone and the floating blue orbs that narrowed at him in his empty, smoke-filled helmet. In fact, he was leaking a ghostly blue smoke everywhere, from his face (or lack thereof), to his joints, to the tips of his fingerless gauntlets. 

Grian continued to gape at him. "Where did, uh…" He waved his hand over his own face, at a loss for words.

"Oh right, you met me with my corporeal mask on." He gestured up and down himself with his empty metal hands. "This is what I really look like. Scar's crystals are super helpful, makes hiding among humans a breeze. Not that you'll find many of them in _this_ inn." He chuckled lightly before turning toward a dresser that mirrored the one in Grian's room. 

"Not many…" Grian blinked again, gears churning in his head as he struggled to understand the situation. "...So you mean to tell me, you're not human?" He lifted an accusatory finger in Wels's direction.

He chuckled again, brighter this time. "Do I look human to you?"

"That's a bit of a loaded question. I mean, not right now you don't, I just- Isn't this a human town?" Humans we're the only creatures Grian could think of that would lock up a whole town just because of a silly dog running loose in the moonlight. Every person he'd spotted here certainly _looked_ human (save for the werewolf), though he should know better than most that that didn't mean anything.

"Mostly. But there's plenty of people like you and me in this town that are just looking to fit in, looking for somewhere to relax a little while."

Grian narrowed his eyes at the metal shell standing before him. "Why am I included in that sentence?"

Wels reached forward to the dresser in front of him, grasping a crystal into his ghostly palm. It was a smoky, cotton-candy blue that matched the wisps curling their way out of his steel exoskeleton. The gem then began to glow in his hand, a vision of olive skin solidifying and spreading up his arm and over the rest of his form. Grian felt his jaw drop for the second time this morning, and Wels looked at him with a smirk on his freshly disguised face. "I think you know why."

The only sound that left Grian's mouth was some sort of indignant squawk, which consequently embarrassed him, so he just snapped his mouth shut. 

Wels chuckled again and slipped the crystal somewhere into his metal frame. "C'mon, let's get some breakfast. You must be hungry." He turned and started down the hall, red helmet tassel swinging with his clunky gait. Grian briefly wondered if living armor could be psychic before his stomach roared once again, so he begrudgingly followed behind his not-actually-human acquaintance toward the front room. 

The bar was absolutely bustling, packed with people from wall to wall and not a single chair within sight was left unattended. The scent of bacon, eggs and maple syrup carried on the breath of happy customers, chattering away into the cacophony. Voices layered atop one another in a busy chorus, a sharp contrast to the endless quiet in the inn hallway, and Grian could already feel a headache coming on the longer he lingered in it. Each form in front of him was decidedly human, many unique faces and features like bushy eyebrows, sagging shoulders, and lanky arms, but none quite so recognizable as the stout woman in bright pink flitting about the crowd like a hummingbird, serving each patron with a smile wide as the morning sky. 

“Mornin’ Stress!” Wels called out by Grian’s side.

Stress turned to them and beamed, empty serving platter in one hand and juice pitcher in the other. She waved at them with two fingers, sloshing around the orange liquid a little as she did so. “Wels! Good morning, good morning!” Grian watched her gaze slide over to him as she began to weave her way through the crowd. “And to you, too, Grian! ‘Ow was your stay? Was it alright?”

Grian opened his mouth, unwittingly glancing toward the wooden double doors at the front before landing back on Stress again. How was he supposed to answer that? _Oh, I slept okay, but I had a face-to-face encounter with the local werewolf and laughed in their face! Hope you guys don’t mind._ He shook his head and plastered on a smile. “Considering my track record, it was a pretty good night,” he half-lied.

Her toothy smile mellowed out into a warmer one, and once again Grian got the feeling that she knew more than she let on. It sent the smallest of shivers down his spine and he tightened his shoulders in protest. “Glad to hear it. Well, if you’re hungry, you can go ahead an’ grab a seat downstairs, there’s a buffet down there with all your breakfast needs. Now, I’ve got to get another plate of toast for these lovely people, so I hope to see you later!” With that she took the slightest bow and made her way back to the bar.

Grian turned to Wels, initial grumpiness having faded into weariness from all the confusion. “There’s a downstairs? I didn’t know there was a downstairs.” 

Wels looked at him, playful glint in his eye Grian couldn’t quite place. “Downstairs is a VIP area for inn customers only, and you my friend are one of them. If you’d follow me...” He waved to the other side of himself with a bit of a bow of his own, and Grian couldn’t help but chuckle in response as it was a gesture so befitting a man decked out in silver armor. For a second, it made him feel like somewhat of a noble. It was an odd feeling.

“Okay, Mr. Knight, show me the way.” He responded.

He led him a mere few paces down the back wall to the other side of the room before landing in front of a door with a sign in the same pink font as the one outside. It read _Inn Guests only_. Oh.

Wels lifted the handle, swinging the door toward them before gesturing across his body once again. “After you.”

“Thanks.” Grian peered into the stairwell that lay before him. It was lined with the same stone brick as the walls around him, packed solid, a wooden rail lining the wall and toward the floor below. He could see the end of the stairs just fine from here, the upcoming room hidden behind walls but giving off a glow that seemed a tad too bright for a basement. As he tiptoed onto the first step the wood creaked beneath him, each one feeling like a slightly different length, and the clanking of Wels’s armor echoed around him throughout his descent. He unwittingly held his breath as he hit the final step and turned left at the end of the wall. 

Grian found himself in front of a large room very similar to the one above him. Along the wall to his right was a buffet table filled with breakfast food beyond his wildest dreams, the silverware just out of reach at the end closest to him. There were fruit, pancakes, eggs and bacon, and more. His mouth started to water just looking at it all. Stuck along the walls were crystalline sconces at an even length, each gem emitting light and filling the room. The stone brick of the walls continued on into the floor, which was speckled with the same round wooden tables and chairs, room half filled with various different faces. There were the long limbs, sagging shoulders, and bushy eyebrows, just like upstairs. But then there were mechanical arms, clawed hands, glowing bodies and flaming hair. There was a man with green skin, some had scales or fur, at least three people in the room had wings, and many of them with leg joints bending in ways that human ones did not. Grian had never seen this much diversity in one room before in his _life_. It was a little overwhelming. 

He whipped around to pester Wels for answers, finding him placing the crystal that created his disguise on a shelf at the end of the stairwell, skin leaving his form like he pulled a sheet out of his armor. “Okay, what is this, why am I here.” Grian demanded, letting out a huff as he gestured to the room behind him.

Wels turned to him, and Grian couldn’t read his expression, which wasn’t hard considering the only facial features he had were two glowing orbs for eyes. “I think the better question would be ‘What do you know?’ And while I don’t know _what_ you are, I do know that you are magic. Stress only gives free rooms to magical beings.”

Grian felt himself straighten, nerves running up his spine as he looked into Wels’s foggy, cavernous gaze. _Magic? They know I’m magic?_ And yet, despite knowing what he was, they still treated him kindly? It was strange, to meet someone so kind to a stranger, to someone like _him_ , without knowing a single thing about him. Or they knew _one_ thing about him, he supposed, but did they _really_ know - did _Stress_ know? He could feel his limbs start to numb as the panic began to seep into him, before a cold press upon his shoulder snapped him out of his head.

“Hey, Grian, buddy, it’s okay. This place is made to be a safe haven for people like us. I know it seems like you just waltzed in here but this place is kept tight. I’ve known Stress all my life and nothing’s gonna happen to ya here.” 

Grian just focused on the cold on his shoulder, the sound of Wels’s voice, and his breathing. He’d never felt so vulnerable, but he hadn’t been met with such overwhelming kindness before, either. Today was gonna be a day of firsts, it seemed. He wracked his brain, trying to make sense of it all. The kindness. The gestures. The reassuring words. If they knew what he was, why were they so _nice?_ He felt like his brain had turned to putty trying to make sense of it.

“You don’t gotta pour your heart out to us or tell us your life story, Grian. Just take life as it comes. You’re safe here. Now, let’s get you some breakfast. Breakfast always makes me feel better after a rough night.” 

Grian blinked at him. “Wh- But how do you eat?” The words slipped out of his mouth without thought and he covered his mouth with a wince. “Sorry.”

He watched as Wels blinked back with those floating blue orbs of his. He then proceeded to laugh, armor jangling with his movements. Grian began to chuckle, too, albeit nervously. “You’ve got a lot to learn about other creatures, it seems. This is gonna be good for you. I’m really glad Stress took you in.”

Before Grian could respond, a rough and jolly voice called out from behind him. “Hey, mornin’ Wels! Who’s this?” He turned around to see a long-eared man with completely red eyes approaching them. He had a plate of pancakes stacked precariously high, fork halfway buried into them. His arms were bright red, and it took a moment for Grian to realize they were coated in feathers, and upon him getting closer he realized his hair was literally on fire. Once again, Grian felt his jaw drop. He had a feeling he was gonna need it wired shut by the end of the day.

Wels piped up happily. “Tango, this is Grian, he just walked in last night. Grian, this is Tango, our resident phoenix and demolition invention extraordinaire.”

“Ah, so Stress snagged another one I see? Nice to meetcha, Grian!” Tango switched his plate to his other hand and extended it out to Grian.

“Uh, nice to meet you too?” Grian took his hand to shake it only to find it was slightly sticky. He couldn’t stop the grimace from spreading on his face.

“Oh, uh, sorry. Maple syrup, haha. You can just lick it off? Wait, that’s gross, I’ll go get you a wet towel.” Tango placed his pancakes onto the edge of the buffet table beside him before sliding between the two of them and snagging a crystal from the same shelf Wels put his on. Grian watched, sticky hand still held out in front of himself, as the magic spread over Tango’s body and disguised all his non-human features. Immediately, he looked just like an everyday human, just a man with tawny skin, brown eyes, and blonde hair heading up the stairwell to the bar.

Grian looked back toward the shelf on the wall as Tango left his sight. “Do all of you just have your own crystals?” 

“Only those of us that,” Wels made a bunny ear gesture, “‘don’t look human enough.’ For human society, anyways. Scar works really hard to make them for us. If anyone asks, they’re just colored glass.”

“Scar… makes them?” Grian turned back to the room, scanning the small crowd to see if he could find the familiar face. Low and behold, the wizard was sitting at a table a few paces away, large purple hat giving away his presence. He was faced away from them, sitting next to what looked to be Iskall, as well as a person with long blonde hair and grey wings that Grian didn’t recognize. 

“I see you’ve spotted him. Wanna talk with him about it over breakfast? He can explain it far better than I can.”

“Sure.” Grian felt his stomach rumble once more, and he silently thanked a nondescript deity that he could finally eat. He ignored the stickiness on his hand and went down the buffet, filling his plate with a little bit of everything. It was about to get sticky again, anyway, considering how he lathered at least half of it in maple syrup. He grabbed a glass of juice near the end of the buffet before weaving back over to the table with Scar and crew, Wels close behind him. He could get a better look at the three characters at the table, now. 

Scar was still wearing the same purple, gold trimmed robes, and there were bags under his eyes that weren’t there the night before. Grian frowned, remembering the werewolf’s howls before he went to investigate them. Seems like he wasn’t the only one that was affected by it. To Scar’s left was Iskall, who looked bright and jolly, literally. He was giving off a soft green glow, which made his pancakes look like they were magical, too, and Grian could almost see the chair he was sitting in through his form. Then to Iskall’s left was the new person, and she was rather tall in her seat, sat still as a cougar eyeing its prey. Her grey skin and wings were slightly freckled, and it took Grian getting closer to realize she was made of stone, and that she was sitting upon the chair with her feet and knees up, like a cat waiting to be fed. 

Grian pulled out the chair across from Iskall and he watched as the stone woman’s eyes snapped to him without her moving a muscle. He froze in his place.

Wels pulled out his respective chair and waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t mind False. Not moving much is her natural state of being. Less because she's a gargoyle and more because she likes to. False, this is Grian, he walked in last night and Stress gave him a free room, so you know what that means.”

False reached for her glass, eyes still locked on Grian, speaking as she brought it up to her lips. “I see.” 

Her expression remained neutral, gaze following him as he slowly finished pulling out his chair and sat down. A chill started to creep up his bones like a cool breeze on a night that’s a tad too cold, palms sweating as he reached for his fork. He tried not to return her gaze, but he could still feel it on him, even as he brought a piece of sausage to his mouth.

Wels cleared his throat. “So, Scar, Grian here was asking me about your magical crystals. Mind telling him how they work?”

“Oh! Does this mean we have a new customer? The manager of the Scarian Crystal Emporium, (that’s me), would love to share some key details about our fine product. Where’s Jellie? I want her here to demonstrate…”

Unfortunately, Grian found himself losing focus rather quickly. The conversation continued as if he were listening, as if he _wasn’t_ getting the staredown of a lifetime. No one seemed to notice, but Grian couldn’t fully tell, either, he didn’t know these people very well. Perhaps they were just trying to brush over her odd behavior, but he could see right through it. The expressionless gaze fixated on him made him feel like he wasn’t as welcome as these people led him to believe. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. _At least something makes sense today_. He continued to eat, but Scar’s soliloquy faded into white noise in Grian’s mind, and he felt the tension begin to rise like a wind in his ears, picking up speed, a tornado on the horizon. He felt the world around him swirl into oblivion, a senseless place where the only flavor on your tongue is the crispy bit of a burnt egg and the wind in your sinuses. He felt himself lift off the ground, gravity long forgotten, limbs numb and empty. He kept his gaze away from the eye of the storm, watching as he passed trees and buildings and taverns and dogs-

 _SMACK!_ A harsh hand snapped him out of his numbing mind, the dishes rattling from the force of it against the table. Grian looked up. False was still staring at him. Her feet were on the floor, now, and she stood, her silhouette towering over him, the light of the sconces shining over her splayed out wings. Her lips curled up in a snarl, and she spoke with venom.

“His aura. I don’t trust him.”

With that, she folded her wings back, scooped up her plate and left the table. _Nevermind, things don’t make sense anymore_ , Grian thought hopelessly, and he and everyone around him watched as she grabbed her respective crystal, her disguised form heading up the stairs with an ethereal, fluid grace. Before anyone had time to react, however, Tango came bumbling down the stairs, a dripping blue towel in his hand. 

“Hey, Grian, I got your towel, but uh… What’s up with False?” He gestured with the towel back toward the stairwell, other hand busy setting his crystal on the shelf.

Across the table, Iskall let out a long whistle. “Yikes. Looks like you’re on False’s bad side, Grian. Also, Tango?" 

“Yeah?” He replied, arriving at the table between Wels and Grian.

Iskall laughed, and as he did so the green hue he was emitting morphed into a cyan, his body glowing brighter with each wheezy giggle. "Your towel is dripping, dude."

Tango laughed back, mockingly. “Yeah, ha-ha. I was going to get Grian a wet towel and I heard a noise while I was upstairs so I came back down to check it out. Seriously, is False okay? She looked _pretty_ peeved.”

Scar piped up, and Grian noticed there was a cat in his arms that was _not_ there before. “She said that something was up with his aura, right? That’s weird, I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

“What? False can see auras, too? Luckyyyyyy!” Tango whined.

“Wait wait wait,” Grian butted in. “What’s an aura? What does she mean she doesn’t trust ‘my aura’?” He’s had so many questions this entire day, and it was about time at least _one_ of them got answered.

Scar gave him a look of surprise. “Oh, did I not explain that earlier? Oops. So basically, an aura is a person’s soul. Non-magical creatures, which are usually humans and animals, have clear auras. Magical beings, like uh… Everyone around you and yourself, have colorful ones. Yadda yadda, unique to everyone, source of people’s magic, that kind of stuff. Most people can’t see them, but I’m a human born with a magical soul, and so is Stress, so we can use magic and see auras. Though I don't think that applies to every magical soul-bearing human.”

So _that’s_ why it seemed like Stress knew so much. Grian held out his hands in front of himself, wondering if _he_ could see auras. Though, if he never knew what they were before, he probably couldn’t. He would’ve noticed, right? This begged yet another question. “So how do you see auras?”

“Well, I can't actually see them on my own. It's Jellie here that can see them, and when I hold her I can see them too. As for actually looking at them, basically I just kinda unfocus my eyes and everything gets all fuzzy and then _boom!_ Colors. Like Iskall over here, his aura is a nice lime green, save for the little blue spot on his eye. Tango’s over there is like a fiery mix of red and yellow. Wels’s, well, you can _see_ his, and yours is.... Red.”

Iskall began laughing again. “Scar - Scar you just - You just described what we look like! ‘Oh, Grian is red’ He’s wearing a red sweater! If I hadn’t seen your magic first hand you’d be looking like a total con artist right now.”

“No, no no! It’s not the same red!” He defended. “It’s a deeper, darker red, with some bright bits around the chest and the head...” 

He gestured loosely in Grian’s direction, and a familiar sensation began to grow in his shoulders and he realized with a panic what Scar could accidentally be doing. He threw his hands up in protest, halting the wizard in his movements. “Okay, okay, I get it. Please stop looking at my aura.” 

Scar continued happily with no protest. “Okay. Oh yeah, I forgot me and Jellie! I’m orange and teal, Jellie here is this _beautiful_ hazel green. Uh, who else is in here? Impulse over there is yellow, Zedaph is pink, Doc is green with like a red core, and Ren’s is also red. Ren’s is kind of weird though, because it’s mostly clear, but there’s this bright red spot in the center…”

Grian was following along fine, eyes following the same trail as he gestured to the rest of the people in the room. That is, until he landed on the final one. Standing by the little alcove on the westernmost wall, next to the green guy called Doc, was a man with a brown ponytail, a red button up shirt, blue jeans… and suspenders. And when he turned around with a wave at the sound of his name, _Ren_ , Grian saw he was wearing sunglasses. Immediately, Grian could feel the fur formerly in his hands and his fork clattered to his plate. The temperature dropped at least twelve degrees, his jaw threatening to hit the table for the millionth time today. _SHIT_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEHEHEHHEHEHE im so glad its finally here :D  
> only took me a couple months but its FIIIINE im really. excited with how its going. dog days are over, indeed.  
> as you can see, this is just twol grian 2 but with a little less anxiety. there was a lot to learn this chapter and i was so excited to write it and share with you guys more of the depth of the universe they're in!!! my friend TOTALLY spoiled it with their artwork but its okay.  
> also, man, i know this cliffhanger is really mean, but im so bad at endings, and it just fits so PERFECTLY and has so much suspense and i cannot wait to hear people's thoughts. thanks for reading!!!


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